


Three Conversations to Fix Three Years

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, M/M, mentions of past Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3708535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two years since One Direction broke up and three since Zayn left, and Liam hasn't spoken to any of his old bandmates since before they announced it was all over. He wishes he could start everything over, but he doesn't think he can make things right. When he ends up sitting next to Zayn at an awards show, Liam realizes that maybe he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Conversations to Fix Three Years

It's been two years. Two years since the official end, two years since the big announcement was made. Each boy insisted on talking through Twitter, because they knew how angry the fans had been about how badly the Zayn news was broken, how impersonal and unfeeling they would've come across as if they'd told everyone through a hasty Facebook message pieced together by some manager's intern.

It had been like a messy breakup of a toxic relationship, that girlfriend you knew you needed to let go because you wanted her so much you were badly hurting yourself in the process, and Liam is glad it's finally over. " _We've decided it's best to split up,_ " he'd tweeted, the words peeling out of his mind and onto the screen of his laptop like dead cells he couldn't wait to rid from his skin. " _Please don't take this too hard, it was the best possible option. Don't worry, we ended on good terms._ " This was a lie.

"Good terms" isn't the shouting matches Louis got into with the management when a second and a third video of him smoking weed were released, and this time he didn't have Zayn to fall back on. "Good terms" isn't the way Harry locked himself in his hotel room and refused to speak to the rest of them for hours on end. "Good terms" isn't the way Zayn ignored their attempts at calling, and texting, and even leaving angry drunken messages reminiscent of the ones Liam had left for Danielle when she'd torn that hole in his heart so long ago. "Good terms" isn't Niall's endless efforts to get the rest of them to talk to each other, and Liam loved all of them, he really did, but he couldn't deal with the negativity and the conversations that constantly fell short when they realized they had nothing in common, not anymore when the dizzying hype of being newly famous had fallen away.

It's been two years, but Liam knows it really ended far before that. It had started, really, when Harry and Louis broke up- although whether they were "together" in the first place was debatable as the two of them were a stubborn pair that refused to talk about their feelings. Sometime around the end of their second tour, Liam had sensed it, this empty space between them they all tried to ignore because how could you explain the split seam in the band when everyone with authority insisted it had never been sewed in the first place?

So they ignored it, and everything seemed to go fine for a while, but looking back, Liam can see it just went downhill from there. Downhill at first like the slightest linear slope that the fans didn't notice and Liam almost didn't either. And then it sped up, sliding fast downhill like a hurtling cart, so fast and terrifying that Liam nearly laughs at himself to remember. The worst thing is that if he really tries, he knows he could've saved it all. Liam just wishes they could start over, go back to the X Factor and fix everything from the inside out. Or maybe, insanely, he wishes that he'd never auditioned in the first place, because maybe his life would've been better without all this. And it's sad to know that five years ago, if somebody had asked him if he'd rather live a normal life, he would've said no, because a normal life would've meant losing these four brothers. He'd been a little in love with all of them, back then, but now he's lost them and he's only looking forward because it hurts to look back.

It's been two years and just yesterday he signed a new contract. A solo album, which was what he wanted in the first place, wasn't it? Wouldn't his fourteen, fifteen, sixteen year old self be proud of him? "Just one album," he'd made sure the contract said. "And I can cancel at any time." Because Liam wants to be in control of himself when the world has lost control around him.

\---

He stares in the mirror as Sandra sprays something that smells a little too feminine for his taste around his collar and Rita runs five different combs through his hair until it looks absolutely perfect. He adjusts his tie and inspects his features. He's only just started to regain the weight he lost in the first year after the band ended when he chose to exercise himself half to death as a coping method instead of the alcohol or drugs that too many washed-up celebrities ended up turning to.

Washed-up. Is that what Liam is? No, he tells himself, he's got an album coming out in a year, even though this is the first award show he's been invited to for months and he hasn't spotted an interested paparazzi camera in weeks. He isn't washed-up, he's Liam Payne and he is completely under control. Breathe in and out, Liam Payne, breathe in and out. You haven't drowned yet- in fact, he thinks, he's just about to break the surface again.

\---

The red carpet is a buzz of flashing lights and screaming voices. He feels odd, detached, and he realizes it's because the last couple times he's been on a red carpet he's had Sophia-

He isn't going to think about her. She's long gone.

"Liam! Liam Payne! Mr. Payne, sir!" Several microphones are shoved in his face. He forces a smile at them. "You've been very reclusive since the band split. What's your angle? Do you want to be rid of fame?"

"Not be rid of it, I suppose," he struggles to think of the way to say this in a positive light. "It's just been nice to have some private time, just me and my family."

"And your girlfriend? How is she?"

Liam swallows. "She's fine, but, uh, she's not currently my girlfriend."

"Okay, well, do you have any projects you're working on, seeing as you don't want to be rid of fame?"

"I don't think I'm allowed to say," Liam says, attempting a wink at a large camera balanced on someone's shoulder. He moves on before they can throw more pressing questions at him.

In the theater, he glances at the card in his hand indicating his seat number. K-32, it reads. He finds row K, slides along the aisle, excusing himself to the women in gowns that pull in their knees to make room. Seat 32 is in the exact middle of the row. He sits down, sinking a little bit into the gold plush theater chair. Everything is too loud around him, and he closes his eyes for a moment before pulling out his phone and discreetly playing an outdated version of Angry Birds in his lap.

He doesn't pay attention when a woman sits in the empty seat to his left and immediately strikes up a conversation with the person on her other side. He doesn't pay attention when a man sits in the empty seat on his right, either, but then he catches the scent of the man's cologne and he freezes. Liam turns off his phone and turns to face him.

"It's been a while," says Zayn with a smile on his face.

Liam doesn't know what to say.

Zayn looks so much older. Not older as in aging, but more mature, more experienced with the world. He's grown out his undercut, his hair now looking similar to the way it did after he started growing it out the first time but before it was long enough to pull into a tiny ponytail. He's got a beard, not long but thick enough to make a difference if Liam were to kiss him.

Liam imagines kissing Zayn for a split second and blinks. Pull it together, Payne.

"Um, hi," he says finally, managing a weak smile.

Zayn's grin is unexplainable. Shouldn't Zayn hate him? He sure has been acting like it, ignoring all of Liam's messages.

"Do you think this was intentional?" Zayn asks.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, this." Zayn gestures to the two of them. "Do you think whoever did the seating put us next to each other on purpose?"

"Dunno," Liam says.

"Some last-straw attempt to get the band back together," Zayn muses, his eyes bright. "Like the Parent Trap or summat, yeah? Maybe if we put them back together, they'll fall back in love, huh?"

Liam can't say anything to that, but fortunately, he doesn't have to, as Zayn is distracted by a commotion several rows in front of them. Someone is talking rapidly to an usher, waving their hands animatedly as if they're severely upset.

"I was right, Li," Zayn says. "They're trying something. Look."

Squinting a little, Liam sees that the man yelling at the usher is Louis, his hair gelled up high like it only ever is for awards shows. Liam wonders what he's on about, until his eyes shift down the row and sees Harry's distinct long hair and lanky form and the empty seat next to it.

"Of course Lou's mad about it," Zayn mutters. "He should be taking this as an opportunity."

The usher manages to convince Louis that changing his seat is absolutely impossible as the light dims, signaling the start of the show.

Throughout the show, Liam can't stop looking at Zayn. They don't speak to each other again, but Zayn keeps glancing at Liam, his eyes crinkling when he laughs at the announcer's jokes, and god, he's still the same boy Liam met eight years ago on X Factor, beard be damned.

Eight years. Jesus. It's been almost a decade since it all started. Liam thinks of everything that can happen in eight years. People have been born, people have died, people have fallen in and out of love.

Liam's fallen in and out of love enough for a lifetime.

The show ends, and bubblegum pop music plays over invisible speakers while the audience stands and shuffles out, talking excitedly to each other. It must have been a fun show, but Liam had spent too much time analyzing the curve of Zayn's cheekbones to properly pay attention. He shakes his head as if to shake off the thoughts that crowd his head until he can't piece them apart.

It's just because he hasn't seen Zayn in three years, he tells himself. He would stare at anyone he'd gone that long without seeing, especially if it was somebody he's close to. Or, rather, used to be close to.

They walk side by side out to the lobby. They stop in the center, a soft carpet under their fancy leather shoes and a crystal chandelier hanging over their head.

Zayn picks up Liam's left hand and looks at it. "No ring," he remarks. "I would've thought you and Sophia were endgame. What happened?"

"You don't know we broke up," Liam says defensively.

"If you aren't engaged by now, you broke up. I know you too well, Liam." Zayn drops his hand, and he lets it fall back to his side and slide into his pocket.

"But I don't seem to know you anymore," Liam mumbles.

There's a pause and Liam isn't sure Zayn heard him. Then, Zayn pulls his phone out of his pocket, a phone Liam doesn't recognize. "Here, give me your number. I've got myself a new phone, I needed those messages to go away, yeah? You haven't been trying to call me and thinking I'm ignoring you, I hope."

"No," Liam lies before hastily rattling off his phone number.

"I wish the five of us were still close," Zayn says quietly when he's finished adding Liam's contact to his phone. "I wanted you to be my best man, you know that?"

Best man. Oh, god, the wedding. Somehow Perrie had managed to completely evade Liam's mind this whole time. "Oh," he says, suddenly lost for words. "She's, uh, she's good then?"

Zayn grimaces. "That ended before we ever got married. Not pretty. But we're on good terms now, we talk a lot, actually." He stops momentarily, eyes flitting as if he doesn't know whether he should continue. "We're, uh, good friends, and we love each other, but I don't think it was really that... romantic, yeah?"

Liam makes a noise of agreement. He's not sure why knowing that Zayn's engagement failed relieves him, somehow. You shouldn't, he rebuked himself. That isn't something to be happy about. Then he wonders if Zayn was relieved to learn Sophia left him. He doesn't know how to feel about that.

"That's that, then, I suppose." Zayn smiles. "See you again?"

"Yeah," Liam breathes as Zayn pulls him in for a friendly hug. "See you again."

\---

He doesn't get the courage- or time- to call Zayn until a week later, when he's sitting on his couch at home flipping through channels on the telly, bored out of his skull. He sees his phone resting on the leather beside him and breathes through his nose.

The phone rings six times before Zayn answers, his voice heavy with sleep. "Christ, Liam, it's not even noon yet. I know we've grown apart but I didn't think you would be so forgetful as to fucking call me in the morning."

"Sorry," Liam stammers. "I could hang up, or-"

"No, don't hang up," Zayn says, and there's movement in the background as he presumably gets out of bed. "I want to talk to you."

"Oh. Okay." Liam forgets anything he wanted to say. There's a moment that's silent save the muffled sound of Zayn rummaging through some drawer.

"It really has been too long," Zayn says eventually. "I don't know what to say to you."

"I don't really know what to say, either," Liam admits.

"It's just good to hear your voice. After all this time."

"You missed me, then?" Liam jokes.

"Far too much for my own good," Zayn sighs, his accent so thick that Liam can barely make out the words from each other. Zayn's accent always gets thicker when he's just woke up. Or when he's exhausted. Or when he's high, or when he's tipsy, or when he's lonely or nervous or excited or turned on.

Liam should not know this much about someone he doesn't seem to know at all.

"How've the other lads been?" Zayn asks him. "They don't hate me, do they?"

"I don't think so. I doubt it. They, uh, I think they blame themselves a bit. It's a little bit hard to look at old interviews, because you're just noticing all the little things you did wrong. All the times we didn't let you speak, or didn't wait to hear your choice before assuming we all wanted the same thing. Fuck, I thought we always wanted the same things, I didn't even stop to think about what you were feeling. Fuck, Zayn, I just-"

"Leeyum," Zayn interrupts, and Liam's heart melts. "That's far too much negativity for so early in the day."

"Sorry," Liam says quietly.

"Don't be," Zayn replies.

He listens to his own heartbeat and he listens to Zayn breathe. "Can we meet up somewhere?"

"I can't today." Zayn sounds apologetic. "I'm going out with Jawaad, but I'm free Saturday. Uh, at two, maybe?"

Yeah, sounds good," Liam says, and he has to ask Zayn for his address because he doesn't know what city Zayn's even in. God. Too long. Too fucking long.

\---

Liam dreams about Zayn.

In his dream, they're 18 again. His hair is long and Zayn's is short, and they're almost the same height. They walk together along a beautiful landscape that Liam won't remember when he wakes up.

Their uninked forearms brush and a pleasant shiver goes up Liam's spine. Dream Zayn turns to him, running a soft hand over Liam's bicep. He starts talking, and Liam knows that the words are important, more important than anything anyone's ever told him before. He's moved by how powerful these words are and he knows his life will never be the same.

And then he wakes up, and he feels empty knowing that he will never recall what exactly Zayn had been saying.

\---

Saturday. 2 PM. Liam stands before the door of Zayn's loft apartment and takes deep calming breaths before ringing the doorbell. He's ashamed by how much this feels like a first date, unsettled by the amount of time he'd spent before coming over here styling his hair to perfection. _Just because it's been three years doesn't mean we have to start over completely. He's still Zayn Malik and I'm still Liam Payne._

But maybe it's the fact that they're still _them_ and yet all this is happening is the most disturbingly real of all.

Zayn answers the door and although Liam's just in a clean t-shirt and jeans he immediately feels overdressed next to Zayn's sweats, ratty tank top, and beanie pulled over messy hair. "Did you wake up like that?" He teases as a form of hello.

"Yes, Liam, I did in fact wake up like this. Come in, you bastard."

Liam follows him into the apartment, which feels unfamiliar. The decor has changed since he's last been here, probably a result of Perrie's absence. It feels more like a home and less like a Perrie Museum. Not that Liam had ever had anything against the girl. She was just a bit much for him to handle.

They sit on the couch, which is similar to the one Liam has at his own place, a comfortable one and a half feet between their respective thighs.

"Tell me more about your amazingly interesting life since we last really saw each other." Zayn smiles through his unkempt beard, and Liam has a strange desire to touch his face. But he doesn't.

"It's not amazing or interesting, actually," Liam admits. "Lots of broken relationships that I haven't tried hard enough to fix, and lots of movie marathons that I don't pay attention to."

"I wish I could say mine was different," Zayn says, and as they laugh together, Liam thinks this is one more step closer to fixing things.

"Maybe," Zayn thinks, rubbing a hand over his chin, "we could do a Marvel marathon. Since our lives are too boring to hold a conversation. Like old times."

"Like old times," Liam repeats, the words refreshing and comforting on his tongue.

They pop in the Captain America DVD and curl closer together on the sofa, and soon enough Zayn's pointing out the differences between the comics and the film, and Liam's reciting trivia he's known since he was seven, and yes, this is as close to _old times_ as they can get.

Maybe, Liam thinks. Maybe we don't have to go back to old times. Maybe new times will be more promising.

After three hours have come and gone, Liam looks at Zayn's face. He sees the smooth bronze of his skin, the golden eyes that sparkle unfairly in the light of the television, the sloping nose and the beautifully thick eyebrows and eyelashes that skim his cheekbones and it's at this exact moment that he realizes that everything he's missing has been laid out before him.

"Would it be," Liam murmurs, and then starts again, louder. "Would it be completely inappropriate to say that sometimes I really want to kiss you?"

Zayn's head turns to face him, and there's a twinkle in his eye as he raises his eyebrows. "Sometimes?"

"Like, right now, actual-"

Zayn leans forward and kisses him.

Liam melts into the kiss as Zayn slides an arm around him, practically sitting in his lap as the movie rolls on unattended.

Yes, he thinks. New times will be more promising.

It can only go up from here.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first time publishing a fic and I'm not entirely sure how well it went. Comments are more than appreciated, although idk if people will find this, let alone read it and comment. Thank you so much if you took the time to look at this! All the love. -A. 
> 
> Find me at zourriamsquad.tumblr.com where I have like no followers!


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